


Pay it Forward

by Bumpkin



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pre-Book(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumpkin/pseuds/Bumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Yassen chose a different route on hearing of Hunter's death? And what could that different route mean for Ian and Alex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Description: What if Yassen chose a different route on hearing of Hunter's death? And what could that different route mean for Ian and Alex?

Disclaimer: Not mine…

Title: Pay it Forward  
By Marns AKA Bumpkin  
Rated PG  
Gen

 

Prologue

Yassen Gregorovich wasn't a simple man. Nor was he a complicated man, really. He was merely – complex. He lived by a code of honour that was all his own. Easy enough to understand and predict if you knew him. Except, therein lay the problem. He was the only one able to understand himself as there wasn't anyone left who knew him. 

There used to be another that knew him; that understood him - John Rider, codenamed 'Hunter'. The man who had trained him in everything he knew. Mentored him really, if you wanted to get a better picture of how the two had interacted. 

Yassen owed John Rider everything that he was; the man had found him as a scrawny young thing in the Moscow slums and seen potential somewhere deep within him. A potential that prompted John, even with him being an MI6 agent under deep cover, to pluck Yassen out of the depths and take him home in order to train him. 

John had even conned the upper echelons of Scorpia, the organization he was working to take down from the inside, to lend him some of their best to help him train Yassen. Yassen had soaked up the knowledge offered like a sponge and gone back for more, but he never forgot who had made it all possible… Who had made sure that Yassen would not only survive, but thrive, no matter what life would throw at him in the future.

John Rider. 

Yassen owed him… everything. Not out of obligation, but out of love and the loyalty borne from that kind of devotion. 

Then came the day that he got word that John and Helen Rider had been killed; their plane victim of a bombing. Incensed, he began to make immediate plans for retribution – he knew exactly who was behind their deaths – but then he had heard that their infant son hadn't been with them and survived. 

It changed everything. 

He no longer had time for revenge because he now had another purpose to devote his life to. He was going to help raise John's son, mentor him like John had mentored him. He was going to tell the child all about John while he trained him, bring the man to life and allow the son to know the father through his stories – he could give the boy that much at least, even if he could never truly take John's place.


	2. Part 1

Part 1

 

Once Yassen had made up his mind that he was going to try and co-raise John's orphaned son, he started to get his 'affairs' in order. Yassen knew that before he could even think of going anywhere that he had a few things to take care of first. First and foremost of that list was his dealings with Scorpia, they needed to stop. Hopefully in such a way that he could cripple them without it pointing back to him. He did still want his revenge on them, but he wasn't willing to risk John's son to get it.

 

Thankfully John had trained him to always have several escape routes and then contingencies and backups for the escape routes. 'There is no such thing as too well prepared or too paranoid', he'd always said. It didn't always work, as John's recent immolation and subsequent death proved, but Yassen had his suspicions about just why and how that had come about.

 

 _But that is something to think about later. Right now I need to set a few things in motion._ Chuckling darkly, Yassen watched the worm he had buried into their closed network start to replicate destroying sensitive information alongside the information that was pertinent to him. _That should muck things up nicely,_ he thought with a cold smirk.

 

Yes, he needed to vanish, both from Scorpia's roster and purview, and didn't see a problem with making sure the organization was too off balance to notice his defection. He just wished he could set Scorpia up to completely self-destruct while he did it as well, but that wasn't very likely to happen much to his disappointment.

 

 _Ah well, can't have everything,_ Yassen thought sardonically as he finished the last of his packing. He made a few quick calls to be sure everything was still in order. Making sure certain locations he had set up in the past were locked down and others dismantled. His main residence, now fully packed, was put in the queue for shipping and storage depending on how it was marked. Sighing, he looked around one last time after hanging up the phone. _This was it, he was really doing this_. He grabbed his luggage and the information he had painstakingly made sure he was the only one left with – at least, the only one who wasn't Ian Rider and his immediate superiors – and departed with plenty of time to make his flight.

 

This was the easy part, he knew. He knew his difficulties were really going to start shortly after he landed and when it came time to brave the lion in its den, as it were. For some reason he thought that Ian Rider might be a bit leery of an international assassin showing up at his door and offering to help him raise his infant nephew. Especially since Ian had followed his father and brother into intelligence work and would know exactly who he was once he introduced himself.

 

 _Maybe it won't be that bad_ , Yassen thought. _Maybe John had told Ian about training him…_ Yeah, somehow Yassen doubted it. Things never worked out that easily in the world and circles they lived and worked in.


	3. Part 2

Part 2

His instincts were still impeccable. John had been utterly professional and told his younger brother nothing. This, of course, left Yassen in a bit of a difficult situation.

 

At gunpoint at Ian's front door.

 

"Perhaps I could have handled this a bit differently," Yassen murmured with a wince as the mouth of the weapon dug into the softer skin of his belly near his navel. "But I wanted to approach you as I mean to go on – openly and without artifice. I honestly did think that John might have told you about me."

 

"Why would he do that?" Ian asked in a voice rough with grief.

 

"Because," Yassen replied simply. "He was my mentor. I owe everything I am to the man. He saved my life, and then gave me the world."

 

Ian let the gun he had been pressing into Yassen's belly fall to his side as he stared dumbly at Yassen while he struggled with that revelation. Yassen Gregorovich was infamous, lethally so - a man known to be one of the deadliest in the world – and he was so skilled because…

 

"My brother, the MI6 agent, taught you everything you know?" Ian finally asked in what could only be called shocked disbelief, but then he quickly recovered and bitterly followed up with, "Then how can you do what you do? How can you take what he taught you and be a murderer for hire?"

 

Yassen sighed. "May I come in? This isn't exactly a conversation you want the neighbours to overhear I am thinking."

 

Ian gave him one last considering look and then after he seemed to have deemed him sincere, opened the door fully and stepped back, inviting Yassen in. "Yes, yes, get in here. We wouldn't want old Mrs. Hendricks three doors down to get an earful, it would be all over Chelsea an hour later. Bloody nattering hen of a gossip."

 

Yassen grinned as Ian ushered him into the kitchen and offered him a tea, while at the same time he groused about the gossipy neighbours. Yassen was amused; he knew that if his plans worked out as he hoped they would have a lot more to talk about. Salaciously speculate actually, he thought with a mental chuckle. He knew the way people's minds worked, bored housewives being the worst of the lot.

 

Ian saw the grin Yassen hadn't bothered to hide and asked with a frown as he sat down after putting two cups of tea down on the table, "What?"

 

Yassen shook his head and answered, "Nothing of consequence, just some idle thoughts." When Ian looked like he was about to challenge Yassen on the issue Yassen derailed him by reminding him of his question from earlier, "You asked before how I could use John's teachings to kill for money, well the answer to that is simple – it's what he taught me to do."

 

Ian looked like he wanted to object that his brother would teach anyone to be a cold blooded killer and Yassen overrode him before he could say anything, "Remember, Ian, when John was my Mentor he was under cover as 'Hunter', one of Scorpia's top assassins. If he had trained me to be anything else it would have broken his cover and lost him his life that much sooner." He stopped speaking as a pang of grief ran through him again as he spoke of John's untimely death. Yassen saw that it was echoed in Ian's eyes and in that moment the two men came to an understanding. 

 

Regaining his equanimity in what most would think was an inhumanly short time, Yassen tried to reassure Ian a little, "As it is, he did manage to instil some manner of ethics into me - a minimal morality if you will - much to Scorpia's dismay and detriment, although they aren't aware that he was the one to do it. Scorpia believes my minimal scruples come from my childhood as a street rat in the slums of Moscow before he found me." Yassen smirked. "I found it convenient and let them."

 

"A minimal morality, hmm?" Ian said with small smile flirting around his lips. "What pray tell does that entail? No puppies?"

 

Yassen snorted. "Yes, puppies are quite safe from me," he said dryly. "As are all children, and many women. Technically, most are safe from me unless they have done something – if not to deserve death, then to get the notice of the big players. I don't actually kill indiscriminately, Ian, I do my own research on the targets and then choose whether to take it or not."

 

"But once you do take a contract you don't fail."

 

"No, there is a reason my reputation precedes me." Yassen said. "I am that good."

 

Ian rolled his eyes. Then he said with more warmth than Yassen had directed at him since the last time he had talked with John, "I can't believe you just said that with a straight face, but I have to say it convinced me more than anything else that John had a hand in your training and perhaps more than was wise in your formative years." Yassen grinned at that and Ian continued, "So what exactly brought you to my door anyway? You could have sent a card if it was just to offer your condolences."

 

"His son, Alex, I want to help you raise him."

 

Ian blinked at him blankly. "What?"

 

"John basically raised me; I want to help his son. Pay it forward."

 

"Okay, I can understand that," Ian said bemused, "but you do realize I work for MI6 right?"

 

"As do I on occasion." Yassen said slyly. "As well as most of the other intelligence agencies of the world. Normally I wouldn't mention it, but I think if we are to share quarters, and the raising of a child, certain things are going to have to be disclosed. I am sure we can rely on each other's discretion, can we not?"

 

"Yes, certainly." Ian said absently, and then part of what Yassen said hit him. "Wait, what? Share quarters? You want to move in here?"

 

"Yes," Yassen said. "You are well situated here, you have a fair amount of room and it's a good area for Alex as he grows; close to schools, parks and other amenities. My work is very ah, flexible, and so I have no problems working from anywhere. This is as good a place as any for both of us to live and raise Alex together."

 

Ian sat back and grabbed up the cup of tea he had ignored until now. He slowly took a sip, to stall for a bit while he thought things over, but then as the over-steeped and cold tea hit his taste buds he made a disgusted face.

 

"Blergh!" He spluttered. "Oh good God, that's awful!"

 

Ian's reaction to the cold tea was so unexpected that it startled Yassen, both for the sheer vehemence of it as well as to the meaning behind it. For Ian not to have noticed the tea was cold before taking a sip meant that he wasn't still in the hyper-vigilant state that kept the good operatives alive, which in turn meant he'd at least allowed himself to trust Yassen subconsciously. It was a good sign, but still – the reaction was funny as hell, Yassen started to laugh. Then he actually fell off his chair as he was laughing so hard.

 

Ian glared. "It's not that funny!" He insisted, but Yassen could tell it was half-hearted, he had obviously figured out the same things that Yassen had and couldn't deny the humor in the sight he must have made. Things might have started to deteriorate between the two of them at that point but the loud thump from Yassen hitting the floor must have woken the baby napping upstairs as shortly afterwards a wail was heard from there. Ian got up and went to get Alex. He was still trying to scrape the taste off his tongue as he passed Yassen, who was still on the floor and still laughing. Ian favored him with a dirty look as he passed. "Oh yeah, loads of help you are."

 

Yassen managed to calm himself down by the time Ian came down with a cherub of a toddler. Blond hair curling gently around a flushed apple cheeked face, set with serious little brown eyes, button of a nose and a little rosy pouting mouth. He was adorable, and very much a Rider from the mini-glare he was bestowing on Yassen.

 

"Oh, you _are_ your father's son, aren't you?" Alex grunted at him and glared a little more. Ian laughed.

 

"Is he ever." Ian ducked the fist the toddler swung wildly as he gazed consideringly at Yassen. Then he seemed to come to a decision. "I think we can come to an arrangement, Gregorovich. Honestly I was dreading trying to raise this little guy on my own, I have a feeling he's going to give the two of us a run for our money."

 

One of Alex's wild swings finally managed to connect and he started to giggle. Yassen raised an eyebrow and said with a small chuckle, "I have a feeling you are right."


	4. Part 3

Part 3

 

Yassen came in the door and was immediately greeted by a torrent of fluent Spanish from a hip-high blond whirlwind who ran up to him. "Uncle Yassen! Uncle Yassen! You're back! Was it a good trip? Did you meet anyone interesting? Did you get me a present?"

Yassen answered in the same language, "Whoa there, Alex, if you keep asking questions one after another I can't answer any of them, now can I?" Abashed, Alex shook his head no. Yassen smiled at him and said, "So, to start from the beginning. Yes, I am back and yes, it was a good trip. As far as meeting anyone interesting, I thought so but I am sure you wouldn't have thought so – no kids. And yes, Alex, of course I got you a present. When have I not? You're just going to have to wait for your Uncle Ian to catch up so you can open it."

 

Alex pouted for a bit, but seeing that Yassen was resolute about him not getting his present until Ian was there too, he turned around and ran pell-mell back into the house, hollering for Ian. Yassen grinned and made his way into the kitchen. Coming home to Alex always made him feel like he was doing something right in his life, something good and wholesome. There were times he really needed that, thankfully this wasn't one of them, but he was glad of it for the times when he did.

 

"Rough trip?" Ian asked as he was dragged into the kitchen by the impatient Alex.

 

Before Yassen had a chance to answer, a scowling Alex scolded Ian, "Uncle Ian! Bad! It's Spanish week. You can't talk English inside the house 'til it's over, it's against the rules!"

 

"Oh right, sorry Alex, I forgot." He apologized to the grumpy little boy in Spanish, then he turned back to Yassen and fluently using the same language said, "So, now that I am using the right language I'll ask again, rough trip?"

 

Yassen chuckled. "No, just long and tiring." He helped himself to a glass of orange juice and sat down. Ian poured himself a cup of tea and joined him at the table. Both men had carefully positioned themselves to look as if they couldn't see the boy at the end of the table who was starting to vibrate with pent up excitement as they spoke with each other. Both men were highly amused with the boy's antics and were wondering when Alex would snap. It didn't take long.

 

"Uncle Yassen!" he finally wailed after only minutes had passed. "My present! You said I had to wait for Uncle Ian, well he's here so can I have it?" Then he pouted. It was a pout of epic proportions even. At the sight, especially as it was right after the whinging plaint for his pressie, Yassen and Ian both broke down and started to laugh. The adorable pout on Alex's face morphed into a scowl but that didn't faze the two adults in the least, much to the disgust of the irate four-year-old who was still standing at the end of the table.

 

The scowl transformed into a frown and they just kept laughing, Alex was ticked. "I don't know why you are laughing, but I think you're laughing at me." Alex accused crossly as he crossed his little arms over his chest and glared at them. "You're being meanies!"

 

Ian and Yassen both calmed down and did their best to look contrite (which as a spy and an extremely successful assassin, their best was pretty damn good as you can imagine) and consoled their charge. Ian getting up to physically hug the little boy and Yassen verbally as he said, "Ah, childling, we weren't intending to be mean. We just found your eagerness for your present amusing."

 

Alex was barely mollified, but he let it go in favour of possibly advancing his own agenda. He knew if he kicked up any more of a fuss it wasn't going to do him any good so instead he merely asked, "Am I still getting my present?"

 

Yassen and Ian knew exactly what their young protégé was up to, but didn't bother with calling him on it. Not this time. They just shared a speaking look that was full of amusement as Yassen replied, "Yes, Alex, you are still getting your present. If you go into the hall and bring me back my bag, I will give it to you." Alex perked up at hearing that and squirmed out of Ian's arms in order to rush out to the hallway so he could do as he'd been asked. Ian took the opportunity to reclaim his seat as it took Alex a little bit of time and a fair effort to drag the heavy bag from the front hall to the kitchen. Panting slightly from the effort he'd put forth and beaming with pride from the softly spoken "Thank you, Alex." Yassen had voiced when presented with his case he now stood near the man waiting for whatever treasure Yassen was about to unveil.

 

Yassen bent down and after unzipping the compartment he needed, pulled out a matched set of three miniature throwing knives brightly electroplated in the primary colours, complete with arm and waist sheathes. He held them out to his 'nephew' with a smile saying, "Now, Alex, these aren't toys and I don't want you using them unless Uncle Ian, myself or one of your Senseis are with you, do you understand?" Alex nodded frantically in acknowledgement of his Uncle Yassen's words with a huge smile plastered across his face as he held out his hands to receive the gift. Yassen smirked at the eagerness and deposited the colourful blades and their sheathes into Alex's hands. "Excellent, here you go then. Why don't you take them up to your room to look over and let your old Uncles talk about boring stuff for a while, hmm?"

 

Alex grinned and said, "Thank you! These are so cool!" Then, just as suggested he headed up to his room with his new prize possessions. Yassen indulgently listened to the thumps and thuds of Alex getting comfortable up in his room as he examined his new miniature throwing knives. It was only when he turned back to Ian that he found himself facing mild disapproval.

 

"What?"

 

"What do you mean 'What?' – I don't care how bright and cheerily they were coloured, those were _throwing knives!_ Alex is four! Which means you just gave a four-year-old three projectile weapons, which granted, they tend to make out of anything not nailed down, but these will actually do damage! Don't you think it's a little inappropriate?" Ian asked with exasperation.

 

"No." Yassen said with no inflection colouring his voice.

 

"No." Ian repeated incredulous. "Yassen, I don't think you are getting it – they were throwing _knives_! Miniature, yes, childish colours, certainly, but still - _knives_! Edged weapons! Not exactly Nerf if you catch my meaning. He's four; he doesn't need to be dealing with such dangerous things yet. As it is we've already got him fluently speaking six languages, in swimming classes, gymnastics, and three very different styles of martial arts - how much more are we going to pile on him?"

 

Yassen languidly waved off Ian's concerns about the knives being 'knives' with a quick "they're not dangerous - only the tips are sharp, the rest is just a really well balanced butter knife." He then proceeded to ignore the rest of Ian's complaints of the throwing knives as well, just like he'd ignored so many other things the other man had protested at first and then fallen in line with later. Besides, he and Ian both knew that he wouldn't give Alex something that would hurt him – much. A little bit of danger wasn't out of order and it would only help Alex learn actions have consequences. It was the other part of the man's complaint that caught Yassen's attention and had him mildly worried. He raised an inquiring eyebrow and said mildly, "Why do you say we are 'piling' things on him? Is he struggling with anything? Complaining?"

 

Ian huffed and glowered before he said grumpily, "No, you know he isn't. He's thriving if anything, thinking it's all excellent fun." Then he snorted and with a wry smile said, "Only thing he's ever really complained about is that visitors to the house 'cheat' and only speak English rather than the language of the week. It seems that he feels they should have to follow the rules if they are coming into the house no matter what."

 

Yassen chuckled, "That would make scheduling visits a bit difficult wouldn't it? Having to figure out who was able to visit when due to what languages they spoke, and then tying that into what week in the cycle it was here."

 

"Yeah, we'd need a secretary to keep things straight." Ian said amused, then he added with a grin, "Actually, now that I think about it, between all of Alex's activities, your schedule, and my schedule, a secretary really wouldn't be a bad idea. It wouldn't hurt at any rate."

 

"Ah, but for that little issue of discretion." Yassen said dryly. "It would certainly be wonderful except I wouldn't hire anyone that I wouldn't trust to tell all of it to, otherwise it would be more of a hindrance than a help."

 

Ian rolled his eyes, but admitted Yassen had a point. Of course this brought up another issue they hadn't really touched on yet.

 

"When do you think we should tell Alex about all of it?" Ian asked Yassen. "At what age do you think Alex will be old enough to know the whole truth about his dad, you, me, and everything?"

 

"I don't know, Ian, that's going to be a tough call. We're already telling him sanitized 'John' and 'Hunter' stories so that he can know who his Dad was to a point – when he'll be ready to hear the full story will depend on when he can keep a secret. I guess that's another thing we're going to have to start training and testing him with in the future, although I am sure it will be after he starts school."

 

Ian flashed Yassen a sardonic smile as he said, “I guess birthdays around here are going to become nothing but surprise parties from here on in, hmm?"

 

Yassen chuckled, "Yes, I think so, and perhaps 'Balderdash' is going to be one of the top party games alongside Poker."

 

"Bluffing and confidence games," Ian looked pained. "Why do I have a feeling we are shooting ourselves in the foot with this plan?"


	5. Part 4

Part 4

 

Alex was super excited. It was the first day of school! He was finally five and going to real school like all the other kids! Not his 'lessons' like he'd always had up till now, but actual _school_ where he was going to be like everyone else and learning all the same stuff they did.

 

_Yay! This is gonna be soo cool!_

 

He was literally bouncing in between his Ian and his Yassen as they walked him to his new Primary school. He guessed they thought he was being funny because they kept chuckling at him, but he didn't care – today was way too important for him to worry about his Uncles being all weird. Then, at the last corner before they were on the school yard block Alex was gently pulled to a halt and turned to face his uncles as they squatted side by side facing him.

 

"Alex," Ian said, "you remember what we told you about only using your English at school, right? It's very important." Alex nodded solemnly but then his attention was pulled to the side and his head swivelled a little bit as he turned to face his other Uncle while he spoke.

 

"And that you try to behave and excel no more than the other children in your classes for sport." Yassen added, but then with a sly smile also said, "Of course, you can choose to emulate the highest performing of your peers as that would limit you the least."

 

Alex giggled as his Ian rolled his eyes at Yassen's words. His Uncles could be so silly. Silly and funny, he thought as the two of them surged effortlessly to their feet while making faces at each other. Not that many would be able to _see_ they were making faces, since what they were doing was part of another 'lesson' he'd learned at their knees. He giggled as they set off for his school again. It didn't take them long to get there, and when they arrived Alex had to stifle the squeal of glee that wanted to escape him from his excitement and anticipation.

 

Once on the actual school grounds, Alex escaped the over-protective clutches of his two uncles and was soon mingling with the other children. He met many girls and boys, but one little boy in particular seemed to draw him over the others, one Tom Harris. His bright blue eyes danced, and his black hair almost crackled with the same suppressed energy he seemed to vibrate with. There was so much barely contained mischief in Tom's eyes that Alex just knew Tom was going to be a lot of fun to be around.

 

Tom seemed to think he'd found a kindred spirit in Alex as well. He pulled a rather bemused Alex close into a one armed hug and began to point out the stuff his 'most awesomest' older brother had showed him from when he had been a first year. Alex soaked the 'insider' knowledge up. Tom also pointed out his 'most awesomest' older brother, Jerry, where he was hanging with some other bigger kids.

 

"That's Jerry there," Tom said proudly, and then with a lot less enthusiasm he vaguely pointed in the general direction of the majority of the milling parents, "and my mum is somewhere over thereabouts." He frowned a little. "I think she is anyway." Erasing the frown and bringing back his bright grin, Tom turned back to Alex and asked, "So who are your grown-ups?"

 

Alex smiled brightly himself and pointed to where his Uncles were standing off to the side in their own little clearing of space, "Right there, my Ian and my Yassen – they're the coolest!"

 

"Oh." Tom's face took on a slightly confused expression. He looked at Ian and Yassen, then he looked at Alex, and then back to Ian and Yassen. Finally he asked, "Did one of them used to be your mum?"

 

-x-

 

Mrs. Michelle Sharpe, the year one teacher for Marlborough Primary School, was feeling a tad frazzled. It was the same every year on September first – always a bit of a confused crush - especially with the new year one kids' parents. They had to get their heads around the idea that they really were leaving their precious little one in the hands of strangers. _Honestly_ , Michelle thought, _the parents were the more traumatized by the day than their kids were_. But that was neither here nor there; she just had to get things smoothed out somehow - enough that the day could actually get started. A thankless job if there ever was one. What was even worse was that it never changed from year to year - except wait - _Hello! What was this?_

A disturbance on the grounds drew her attention. A cluster of mothers were crowding together and looking in one direction while gossiping fiercely amongst themselves. Some seemed to be stolidly frowning and clucking with disapproval, and others were twittering and giggling as they whispered with each other. Michelle shook her head. _Bah, and women wonder where our reputation  as 'hens' comes from_ , she thought with some disgust as she craned her head to see what had this 'flock' was wittering on about.

 

_Well now, this could be an interesting development_ , she thought with some glee as she watched two very well built and graceful blond men leading a small blond boy onto the school grounds. _I guess the gaggle had a reason to get all a-flutter after all._

 

Same sex couples as parents weren't totally unheard of, but they were rare enough to cause a stir on the infrequent occasions when they did surface. _Not that those two wouldn't have caused a stir anyway due to completely different reasons_ , she thought with a wicked grin, _talk about some seriously hunky eye-candy. Those two are yum!_ It was a shame, they were obviously off the market since they were committed enough to each other to be raising a kid together. She sighed and leaned against the doorjamb as one of the men spoke in a softly Russian accented voice to his little boy, "Remember, Alex, you are to listen to your teacher. Be good, but have fun too."

 

She didn't watch as the two men walked away, she only sighed wistfully. _Yep, it was official._ Michelle thought, _all the good guys were already married or gay._

  
-x-

 

Ian and Yassen were walking away from the school and Ian seemed to have something on his mind. Finally he just asked his companion, "You saw?"

 

Yassen's answer was a simple, "Yes."

 

Ian said conversationally, "You know what they were thinking."

 

"Of course," came the dry response from Yassen.

 

"Doesn't it bother you?"

 

"No," and then curiously Yassen asked, "does it bother you?"

 

"No." Ian said, and then he chuckled. At his companion's querying look he explained his flash of amusement, "actually, in a way, it makes things a bit simpler when it comes to dealing with certain things."

 

"Yes, it does, doesn't it."

 

Ian frowned. "Although, legalities could get a bit murky in the future if we're not careful."

 

"True."

 

Ian turned his head to glare and scowl at Yassen, frustrated at his lack of helpful input, and Yassen said with a smirk, "What? You seemed to be covering everything more than adequately. Why would I bother to add more than my two cents in and muck things up? Did you really need for me to say more?"

 

Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, but getting your thoughts on the matter wouldn't hurt you twisted so and so." Ian muttered with aggravation. Ian was sure he was never going to understand how the other man thought. But then again, that wasn't anything new.

 


	6. Interlude 1

Interlude 1

*~Ring~* *~Ring~*

 

Ian reached over and picked up the phone, absently greeting whoever was on the other end with a vague "Hello?" He hadn't been expecting a call, and as Yassen never gave the house number out, he was sure that it wouldn't be for the other man either.

 

"Yes, Mr. Rider? This is Mrs. Sharpe from Marlborough Primary School, I teach your son, Alex."

 

Ian stiffened and focused his attention at the words. Then with visions of possible disasters running amuck in his mind, many caused or precipitated by the child under discussion himself, he answered cautiously, "I see, now the question is why you are calling - is there a problem with Alex?"

 

"A problem with Alex? No. Not exactly at any rate." Ian heard her utter a breathless little laugh that sounded more than a bit strained. "But I do think it would be best for you, and perhaps your partner as well, to come to the school if at all possible so that you can *see* what the exact situation is, as well as to discuss what should be done to deal with it."

 

Ian assented, allowing that he would be there shortly and then hung up. He wondered what exactly his brother's child had gotten into to have his teacher sounding like she had, but pushed aside all his theories to the back of his mind as he ventured up the stairs to inform Yassen of the call and subsequent summons.

 

-x-

 

Although not much time had passed between the call and the time he and Yassen arrived at Alex's school, Ian still managed to imagine many scenarios of what Alex might have done to prompt the school to call home. Each one more absurd or disastrous than the one before. Hopefully, he thought dryly, with all our combined training Yassen and I will be able to salvage the situation that has so stressed the teacher to actually call us in; even with whatever trouble that Alex has managed to orchestrate. Then he and Yassen physically stepped into the classroom and Ian realized that nothing, none of his training or Yassen's, could possibly have prepared him for what they had just walked into.

 

It was chaos; pure unadulterated mayhem of the highest order. The room was a virtual rainbow with swathes of paint liberally splashed everywhere. Nothing had been spared; walls, floor, ceiling, teacher… children. The teacher, Ian guessed her to be the Mrs. Sharpe who had called, looked like she was barely hanging onto her temper and Ian now understood the strained tone that had been evident in her voice during the call. He was certain he would be having a few troubles keeping things on an even keel in circumstances like this himself.

 

The children, of course, thought that the paint war had been one of the best things they had ever seen or participated in. They were giggling and somehow finding a way to make the mess worse – though Ian wasn't sure how that was even possible. It was also clear why he and Yassen had been called in; two heads close together in the middle of the vibrantly colourful mess were the obvious ringleaders to the hubbub – and one of the two, easily seen under the lashings of bright paint, was the brilliant blond of their Alex. The other seemed to be the spiky black, drooping now under its own layered streaks of the tempra paint, belonging to Tom Harris; the boy Alex had been instantly drawn to on his first day of school. Giggling madly they seemed to be able to instigate the other children of the class into wilder actions with almost no effort. After a moments observation Ian came to see how it worked; Tom seemed to be the idea man and Alex, normally such a good child outside of his 'training', was the one to figure out how to make the ideas work.

 

"They make a good team, don't they?" Yassen said sotto voce just as they were joined by two other adults who could only be the parents of young Mr. Harris. Ian grimaced fleetingly in acknowledgement as Yassen's rather droll observation matched his own findings while he turned to greet Mr. and Mrs. Harris. Of course Yassen couldn't leave it there, he waited until Ian was done with his polite greetings and then added in Russian, "You think that Tom child might want to join Alex in some of his extra lessons? Prospective talent like his shouldn't be wasted and Alex could use some competition to really make the most of his potential."

 

Ian paused, actually thinking about what Yassen had proposed rather than just reacting, and outlandish as the idea sounded at the outset he had to admit – the idea had merit. He waited while Yassen made his own polite greetings to the Harris' and then he responded in the same language as the suggestion, "You know that really isn't a bad idea, Yassen, perhaps we can talk to the Harris' today before we leave after sorting this mess out. We could use the idea that both boys need an outlet to channel some energy as well as it being a mild form of discipline for Alex and Tom to win Tom's parents over. What do you think?"  

Yassen didn't need long to think of all the ramifications, he'd already flashed through most of them as Ian spoke. He nodded sharply once and said, "It's solid, we'll do it; although we'll have to make sure none of the lessons are the ones that if repeated are going to get child services called on us if young Tom goes and starts telling tales out of school."

 

Ian raised a rather sardonic eyebrow as he replied with a faint smile, "Well, I suppose the ones in lying convincingly and not sharing are the ones to start with then, hmm?"


	7. Interlude 2

Interlude 2   

 

Ian wandered into the house, tired from his day of paper wrangling at MI6's headquarters, and made a beeline for the half full kettle still gently steaming on the stove. A quick test with his hands told him the contents were more than warm enough that he would be able to make himself his much needed cup of tea, and so he busied himself doing just that.

 

It was only when he was taking his first sip of the liquid ambrosia that the sounds penetrated his mind, squeals of childish glee and other various exclamations. Sounds he never thought would be heard from the environs belonging to him – or his roommate for that matter. It was only as he went to go and investigate the origin of the commotion that he realized what must be happening; Tom was over and the first of his more physically oriented lessons were starting. Ian grinned; he and Yassen had discussed how Tom was ready for the new material since Tom had already mostly caught up to Alex in the language and lying parts of the lessons. Well, for the most part on the language issue anyway since Tom hadn't wanted to learn it all and neither Yassen nor Ian had seen any reason to push for more.

 

_Although_ , Ian mused, _the way that Tom had managed to learn two other languages so fluently that he_ _now mangled them in the same manner he did English was a really good proponent for the Immersion way of teaching things._   Pushing the idle musings of just how successfully Tom had picked up the two languages he'd chosen to learn, Ian focused back in on the present when more gleeful squeals echoed from the enclosed backyard.

 

Curious to see how Yassen was handling the addition of Tom to the active version of Alex's lessons, especially with how much both Alex and Yassen were going to have to hold back, Ian made his way towards the rear of the house. Finding a good vantage point in order to observe from he settled in. Immediately he had to stifle the laugh that nearly burst out of him as he saw exactly what Yassen was attempting to deal with. It seemed that Tom couldn't care less about who was on the end of one of his 'jokes' - something which Yassen now knew from personal experience.

 

He was absolutely covered in silly string, dripping it really. Yassen looked flabbergasted and Ian couldn't be bothered to hold back the peals of laughter that rang throughout the house at his roommate and fellow guardian's expression. He could see very clearly in the other man's face that Yassen couldn't believe he'd been so thoroughly pranked, or that he had been gotten at all for that matter. _That would teach him to underestimate kids,_ Ian thought amused as he watched Yassen scowl at his two tormentors. _World famous assassin indeed, oh the blackmail possibilities this gives me if I only dared to capture this on film._  Not that Ian would, he'd been in the exact same position – embarrassingly pranked that is - too many times thanks to the combined talents of Alex and Tom to even contemplate the idea for long. It would be too easy for Yassen to get even.

 

It was only after Tom had been sent home and Alex went to bed that Ian dared to bring up the afternoon's incident to Yassen while they were tidying up from the whirlwind that was Tom.

 

"You saw that?" Yassen asked. When Ian nodded and grinned Yassen groaned. "Damn. Talk about getting an object lesson. Trying to corral those two kids when they are in a mischievous mood is like trying to wrestle the wind – only to be attempted when you have no other choice. They are menaces."

 

"Menaces that we give weapons to," Ian helpfully added dryly, "ones that we then promptly train them in how to properly use."

 

Yassen glared at him and snarkily said, "Yes, yes, yes. I know, and we are due for our next mental checkups when?"

 

Ian chuckled, "Oh I think we were overdue when we thought adding Tom into our training sessions for Alex was a good idea."

 

Yassen nodded as with a totally straight face he intoned, "I concur."

 

Ian cracked up.

 


	8. Part 5

Part 5

 

Yassen was tired. Down to the bone exhausted and drained to the last erg of energy. It was around five in the morning and it was nearly all he could do to steer his sleek BMW into his regular kerbside parking spot in front of the house he and Ian shared. He was finally home; thankfully he shut the motor off. He sighed and just sat for a moment as the large performance engine ticked loudly in the predawn quiet as it cooled down, staring out at the glow of the false dawn on the horizon while he tried to muster the wherewithal to actually get out of the car and go to the house proper.

 

It had been a rough three weeks, especially since he was supposed to have been home two of those weeks ago. _Good thing that Ian hadn't been scheduled for anything, or things could have gotten rather sticky._ The balancing act he and Ian were doing while taking care of Alex and dealing with their rather unpredictable respective jobs – well, he didn't know about Ian, but it sure sometimes made him wish for a net.

 

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Yassen got a strange feeling of something skittering up his spine – like something was walking over his grave. He gave himself a shake. _Dammit, the absolute last thing I need to do is to start feeling omens or portents,_ Yassen thought darkly.

 

He shook the feeling off as best he could and started to get out of his car, only delaying long enough to get his baggage and gear together in order to take it all inside with him. As he was doing this his well-trained ears picked up the sound of another vehicle approaching. Yassen slowed and then paused in the process of gathering his belongings as he tensed. He listened carefully and analyzed from the sound what kind of car it might be. It didn't take him long to identify what it was and so he relaxed, as much as he ever did when not in the house, and finished getting his things together. As far as he could tell, the approaching car was just an average hack, probably dropping off a fare in the area. He idly wondered who, other than him or Ian, would be getting home at this rather ungodly hour in the morning. Most would just be stirring to start their day he would think. Then, as if to answer his curiosity, the taxi stopped in front of the house and Ian, looking just as exhausted as Yassen felt, got out.

 

Yassen stared. Myriad thoughts spun through his mind, all centered on one very precocious seven year old and the trouble he could both get into and cause when they turned their backs for even a second, never mind having a week or two to wreak his havoc in depending on how badly he and Ian had mixed their signals and missed each other. All the horrors he could imagine flipped through his mind as only one word slipped out. "Ian?"

 

Hearing his name, the man spun on the spot and seeing the evidence of Yassen just returning from his own assignment, just stared himself. Yassen could see all the horrifying images he had just thought of go through the other man's mind in Ian's eyes as the realization dawned on him as well of just how bad this could be.

 

"Oh good Lord, if neither you nor I were here," Ian started and Yassen finished dryly, "we're in trouble."

 

Ian could only nod in agreement with Yassen's rather succinct summation of their situation. It was with great trepidation that they gathered their collective belongings together and entered the house. The two men had no idea of what they were going to find. Knowing Alex the two were sure whatever they found wasn't going to be pretty. Sure, Alex was a pretty self-sufficient kid thanks to how they had raised him, but that didn't make him capable of looking after himself, and the house, for any extended length of time. Let alone for however long he'd have had to cope when the two of them had gotten their signals mixed so disastrously. Plus they had to keep Alex's reaction in mind, when Alex was mad at them (and both of the men knew he would be in this particular situation) he tended to retaliate – so that meant 'booby traps', and if Alex had the time he could have set up some real doozies, especially if he'd got some help from Tom.

 

So it was with caution that the two men moved into the house proper, pausing briefly to deposit their things at the base of the stairs. That done, they crept further in to see what they might be facing. Needless to say, they didn't expect to find the red headed virago who had been house-sitting next door (and occasionally baby-sitting for them since getting that job) ensconced on their couch and nothing else, though her being there could account for the lack of what they were expecting.

 

"Jack?" Ian said aloud in his surprise at her being there, which woke the person in question.

 

"Wha?" Jack said while sitting up and looking around groggily. "Who's there?"

 

Yassen shared a rather speaking look with Ian as they silently warred on who would answer. Yassen lost and so he was the one to answer her not awake yet question as he dryly said, "Yassen and Ian. You know, the two men who live here."

 

"Ah, yes." Jack said; a little more awake now, "the two 'grown' men who asked me to watch their kid for an hour… two weeks ago." She didn't sound too happy about it and neither Yassen nor Ian could blame her – Alex was a handful at the best of times. And with it seeming like he had been forgotten about due to their respective work would only have made things worse. Again the two men shared another speaking look, this time hoping to prod the other into taking on and calming their unexpected houseguest. Ian conceded this time and stepped forward to do the honours.

 

"Yes, well, we're terribly sorry about the inconvenience, and of course immensely grateful that you stayed goes without saying. It seems we got our wires crossed somewhere and, unfortunately you ended up bearing the brunt of it." Ian said apologetically.

 

"Hrumph." Jack grumpily growled and then with narrowed eyes focused in on her 'hosts' she said, "Brunt of it is right.  You know, your boy, Alex, can be a right nightmare when he is teed off, and honestly I couldn't blame him for it. I can't even begin to imagine how I would have acted if my parents had gotten too busy to remember me, the way you both did for the last two weeks."

 

Ian protested, "We didn't forget about him! We just got our wires a little crossed, like I said before." Sadly, his words got a lot weaker at the end there and Jack didn't look the least bit understanding of his voiced excuse, let alone mollified. Yassen decided to see if he could make things any better.

 

"Nothing like this has ever happened before; we've always managed to juggle our very demanding 'work-related' required travelling alongside our taking care of Alex. This truly was an aberration, one that could have been disastrous without your very gracious presence and involvement. Plus, I urge you to consider that when Ian obviously engaged you to look after Alex two weeks ago, though it was only supposed to be for an hour, it was because he wanted to make sure Alex wasn't being left on his own while he waited for me to get home. Ian had no way of knowing that I wasn't going to be able to make it on time."

 

Jack grumbled some more but it was evident that she had to concede with that, though it was equally evident that she didn't want to. They did have a point after all as she had been hired to watch Alex until Yassen had returned. They just didn't expect how messed up things had gotten somewhere along the line. It did bring up something rather important to their attention though, something Ian and he had been talking on and off about for a while – especially with the unfortunately flexible nature of their work - the need for someone who would be there at all times, like a live-in nanny or housekeeper. One who would be there for Alex, even when they couldn't be - or, heaven forefend, when something like the very mess they were in at the very moment might occur again.

 

His thoughts were abruptly derailed as Ian abandoned his caution and strode further into the room to collapse in his favourite chair. He groaned as his body relaxed in the comfortable and familiar seat. Then, in a raspy voice, he said, "Listen, I know and totally agree that we have more to discuss, but I am completely and utterly knackered."

 

Yassen felt himself sway where he stood as he concurred, "As am I." He hadn't become as successful in his chosen field as he was by not knowing his own limits. Centering his attention on Jack, Yassen asked, "Perhaps we can prevail upon you to keeping watch over Alex for at least a few more hours while Ian and I get some much needed rest. We can continue this conversation when we wake and possibly-" he paused for a barely imperceptible moment as his gaze shifted over to meet Ian's to see if he had followed his thought processes and agreed. Ian's tired eyes showed he had, and did. Yassen smoothly returned his attention to Jack and focusing in on her resumed speaking, "- we could discuss if you, as you are already familiar to Alex and ourselves, are amenable to the idea that you might want to make your presence here a more permanent arrangement."

 

Jack blinked. "What?" She hadn't been awake long and her still sleep muddled eyes showed the confusion she was feeling as she tried to parse what Yassen had said. "Uhh…"

 

Ian came to her rescue. "You watch Alex while Yassen and I sleep and then we'll talk when we are all awake, hopefully with tea."

 

"Oh. Okay, yeah – that sounds like a plan." Jack said. "Though for me it'll be coffee rather than tea as I don't get what you Brits see in that 'tea' crap."

 

Ian looked affronted and Yassen laughed at his expression. Ian muttered while he hauled himself back to his feet, "Heathens, the both of you." He kept muttering as he followed Yassen from the room, but since it had faded into unintelligible mumblings Yassen didn't bother trying to understand. Jack giggled at the two of them and with a little wave to send them off flopped back to her prone position, obviously hoping to catch a bit more sleep before having to deal with Alex. Yassen didn't blame her.

 

Chivvying Ian up the stairs, Yassen hoped Jack would agree to working for them. There was no doubt that he didn't want to think about what they had so narrowly missed this time actually happening sometime in the future, but that wasn't all. Yassen was nothing if not practical and so he also couldn't help thinking that her being an American would be beneficial to Alex and Tom and their training. They would see how even countries that spoke the same language could be foreign to each other. Plus there were the other things she could teach them, skills that had been listed in the dossier he and Ian had compiled on her before they even thought of asking her to watch Alex the first time.

 

_Yes_ , Yassen thought with satisfaction, _this is turning out to be a win/win/win situation all around_. Jack would get her visa extended and a place to live while she continued in her schooling, Alex and Tom would learn a lot from just being around her, and he and Ian got peace of mind. Additionally, as a bonus if they worded the contract right, they would be able to push off some of the domestic duties off onto her. Yassen grinned at the thought. _Lemons to lemonade indeed. To think we might get all this because of a narrowly missed disaster, the irony is boggling._

 

Then as he dropped Ian off at his room and continued to his own he was thinking, _the only question is - 'how much do we tell her'?_ They had to tell her something; his concerns about hiring a housekeeper or secretary were still very valid. Hiding what they were teaching Alex and Tom wouldn't be possible, not in the long term. Never mind making it impossible to ask her to add to it with her own skills if they were to try. No, they had to tell her something – but what? And how? _Wait, perhaps that's it,_ Yassen thought as an idea hit him, _they could tell her a lot, a portion of the truth even, if they slanted it right._ If they did it right, it would also be the perfect way to ask her to teach them what she could as well.

He reached his door and after entering, placed his various cases down on his bed. He began to sort through and put his more deadly and questionable 'gear' away automatically, ignoring the clothes to deal with later, as he thought about how they should share the information. He had some ideas, but nothing concrete, by the time he had tucked the last of his arsenal away and so he just tucked it to the back of his mind as he got ready for bed. He and Ian could talk it over later was the last thing he thought before succumbing to sleep.

 


	9. Part 6

Part 6

Jack Starbright loved her new job. Correction, she loved the four rascals she was stuck coping with thanks to her new job. Ian and Yassen were just like two of her many brothers back home (albeit with a bit more polish and class she had to admit) and Alex and Tom could be two more added into the tribe of nephews she had thanks to those previously mentioned brothers. But still, she knew something wasn't right. Things were just not adding up.

 

Oh sure, Yassen and Ian had 'explained' to her the what, who, and why of their training Alex in the way they were - and why Tom was included too – but she was getting the feeling they had fed her a load of something she wouldn't normally eat. It stank at any rate. Oh she was positive that they hadn't out and out lied to her – she was too much her US Marshall Father's daughter to fall for anything less than something that was more than partly the truth – but she had a feeling that they had omitted more than a little, and slanted the rest to suit their needs. It was a fairly standard snow job as these things went, but it really piqued her curiosity of why they had felt the need to do it at all.

 

So she snooped.

 

It was only fair, she justified to herself. If they weren't going to come clean about all the languages, the many disciplines of martial arts and gymnastics along with all the other sundry odd stuff she had caught them teaching the kids, then she was going to find the explanation on her own somehow. It took her a few months, granted that was because she had been going slow and being extra careful since the three that she lived with were all freakily aware of _everything_ and _anything_ to do with their surroundings and persons; but she still managed to make a few discoveries. Problem was that the discoveries gave her more questions than answers. It was beyond frustrating.

 

Ultimately, the frustration was what led to her downfall – or at least, her getting caught. Red-handed even.

 

She had been industriously 'cleaning' the main den (translated: poking into the private filing cabinet) when she heard a throat clearing behind her. She froze. Then she ventured rather optimistically, "Umm, would you believe that I was organizing the files?"

 

Ian's dry rejoinder was pretty clear. "Dreadfully sorry, but no."

 

Jack's shoulders sagged. "Ah, well damn." She just knew she was going to be fired.

 

"Indeed."

 

Still facing away from Ian, Jack made a face. Then she began to put all the papers she had pawed through during her search meticulously back into place before turning to face the music.

 

"Am I fired?"

 

Ian tilted his head slightly and Jack got a feeling that he was more amused than angry; she had no idea why that was, but decided to run with it. "Wait, before you answer that – can I ask a question to satisfy my curiosity?"

 

"Hmm?" Yes, definitely more amused than angry, at least so far. Her next question might change that though. Eh, what the hell, you only live once.

 

"You and Yassen, you're both spies or something like that aren't you? And you're training the boys to follow in your footsteps. Am I right?"

 

Ian chuckled. He shook his head and motioning for her to follow started to leave the room while he muttered ruefully, "I shouldn't have made that bet with Yassen. Damn man always wins." Mystified, Jack followed.

 

Ian led the way to the kitchen where Yassen was sitting at the table on which sat a full teapot and three cups. Alex was nowhere in sight. Jack guessed she hadn't been nearly as sneaky as she thought. Her employers certainly didn't seem in the least surprised by her prying, or the conclusions she had come to going by Ian's muttering as he was leaving the room before.

 

Taking her cue from Ian, she sat at 'her' place at the table where Yassen promptly filled her teacup after he'd finished filling Ian's and his own. She eyed the tea suspiciously, wondering if something might be added to it. She glanced quickly and saw both Yassen and Ian drink theirs, and decided to trust it – especially seeing as hers had been poured last. She didn't think they could have added anything in the short time frame. Besides, she'd still rather have coffee since she still thought tea was crap. Not that she was going to ask for coffee, asking for something special when she wasn't sure she still had a job wasn't the best idea. Really, it wasn't. She took a sip of her tea. The taste made her briefly reconsider about asking for some coffee. She cleared her throat instead.

 

"So…" she ventured nervously when it appeared the two men were prepared to let her stew. Or get so wound up that she exploded. Either or. "Am I fired or am I finally going to get some real answers?"

 

Ian and Yassen did that speaking look thing that drove her absolutely round the bend, but then Ian turned back to her and said, "Yes, well; we knew it was inevitable."

 

"What was?" Jack was completely and utterly lost. "That you would have to give me answers or that you fired me?"

 

Yassen chuckled and Ian snorted his own amusement. Yassen was the one that finally answered her, "That you would somehow figure it out. You can't live in such close quarters with another without their being able to piece things together. Hence how we knew it was inevitable that you would get some idea of what was going on."

 

Jack blinked and tried to assimilate what she'd just been told. All she could muster up to acknowledge that she heard was a rather vague, "Ah."

 

Ian took up the conversational ball, "And now that you figured most of it out, we have no choice."

 

Jack froze, again, and then began to splutter. "No choice? What? There's always a choice, always another way."

 

"Nope, no alternative at all." Ian continued while Jack really started to panic. "We shall have to-"

 

"To what? Oh god, please don't say kill me…" Jack blurted in her panic.

 

Ian paid her frantic words no attention as he finished what he'd been saying, "-tell you everything. That and train you while at the same time we get your expertise to add to Alex and Tom's arsenal."

 

"What?" Jack felt the tension (and fear) drain out of her as she processed Ian's last words. But she was beyond confused now. "Wait, what do you mean train me? And what was that about adding my 'expertise' for Alex and Tom?" Then the other part of what Ian had said percolated. "You're gonna tell me everything? Finally answers! Whoohoo!"

 


	10. Chapter 10

Part Seven

 

It was only two weeks after Jack had been told the whole story, this time without embellishments or any juggling of the truth (and hadn't that been a kick in the pants, as well as being more than a bit scary, to find out that her employers were; one - a top echelon spy ala James Bond fame, and two - a legendary assassin who was renowned for never missing his mark), that found her, along with Yassen, the Riders, and Tom at the firing range. Now Jack wasn't a stranger to guns, thanks to her law enforcement inclined father and brothers, but the things that the two men she worked for were showing her they could do with the weapons was blowing her mind. Yassen's lessons in particular.

 

Along with lessons on gun safety, reassembling and gun care, the boys were being taught instinctive firing. She and Ian were also being shown the hows behind it but… well, to put it nicely – their attempts could only be called dismal failures. Frankly they were too old to catch on; it was only a skill you could pick up before you formed other habits. That wasn't to say the skills they had were being dismissed. No, they were also being learned by the boys at the same time.

 

It was actually kinda fun, the give and take of teaching and learning the differing methods that all three adults used – that was if they ignored why they had the skills. Ian and Yassen more than Jack of course, her reasons for knowing what she did about guns and self defense was very similar to why they were teaching the boys. Being able to protect herself if any of the nefarious someones her law enforcement dad or brothers had dealt with during the course of executing their duties had come after her for retaliation. Thankfully she'd never had to actually deal with anything like that before her little trip over the pond, well the little trip that was turning into a rather long stretch as Ian and Yassen were very happy to keep her gainfully employed for the foreseeable future.

 

Not so fun were the self defense lessons. The lessons themselves weren't bad exactly, but there was no way that getting your butt whooped by two eight going on nine year olds wasn't just plain embarrassing. She had thought that she was pretty good thanks to all the wrangling she had done with her brothers while growing up, but Alex and Tom put any expertise she had in the dust. Admittedly more Alex than Tom since he'd been going to various martial arts lessons for nearly as long as he could walk and Tom had only started with the martial arts after he encountered Alex and his insane guardians with the start of his school life. Their sheer energy level was enough to make even Ian and Yassen quail a bit, even when their skills still majorly outstripped the boys, so Jack didn't feel quite as bad as she could have at her dismal performance against the two little hellions. Plus, there was the fact that she was learning a whole lot from her employers when they threw her to the proverbial wolves, e.g.; when they stood back and had her fight the boys while calling out suggestions – the rotters.

 

The other elements of the boys' extra-curricular education were actually a lot of fun and Jack thought that she would have loved to participate even if she hadn't known why they were doing it. Rock climbing, gymnastics, yoga, survivalist training while camping - Jack actually wasn’t that fond of the survivalist training stuff, living that rough with the bare minimum of tools was never going to be a passion of hers, let alone something she would do often or voluntarily  – and to round off the insane list, cooking classes. The last was something that Jack was pretty sure Ian and Yassen thought to include because they were again attempting to get out of doing the cooking for the household themselves. They had certainly tried valiantly to push the kitchen chores off onto her when they’d hired her but she wasn’t stupid; she’d made sure that the only time she had to step foot into the kitchen was when neither Ian or Yassen were home. Alex thought their ongoing debate on who did the cooking was funny but was wise enough to stay out of it.

 

Even with the incredibly packed schedule, the Rider household fell into a routine as time continued to march forward. They cycled through the schedule of different languages to be spoken in the house, attended all the classes, went on many short trips in between attending to school and work respectively – Alex, Tom and Jack for the first and Ian and Yassen for the second – and somehow nothing happened to disrupt their lives for five years.

 

Ian and Yassen were both again working at the same time and out of the house so only fourteen year old Alex and Jack were in residence when things went sour. It was late when the chime sounded and woke Alex. His eyes flickered open but he didn’t move except to glance over to the glowing numbers on his alarm clock as the chime sounded a second time. Alex heard when Jack managed to pry herself out of bed and trundle down the stairs, and then down the hall to the front door. Alex rolled out of bed and glanced out his window to see a police car parked outside when he heard whoever it was at the door ask, “Mrs. Rider?”

 

“No, I’m the housekeeper. What is it? What has happened?” Jack answered as Alex quietly opened his door and padded downstairs on silent feet to eavesdrop better. He clearly heard when the two officers at the door established that they were at the right house and then asked to come inside to talk. Alex knew why they were there. He knew that it was bad news because of the police stood, awkward and unhappy, and he knew because of their voices. They were telling Jack about how Ian had supposedly been in a car accident, how he’d been burned beyond recognition and they’d only been able to identify him through dental records. Alex was frozen, he didn’t know how to react – and he could tell that Jack wasn’t much better off by her subdued reactions to what she was being told. The police left soon afterwards and Alex ghosted into the room Jack had returned to after seeing the policemen out.

 

The police had been gone for about ten minutes when the phone shrilled and Jack started badly at the sound. It rang two more times and as Alex saw that Jack wasn’t going to answer he leaned over to do so. He picked up the handset and hit the speakerphone button so Jack could also hear whoever it was calling at this hour. “Hello?”

 

_“Alex! Why are you answering the phone at this hour? Where’s Jack?”_   Yassen’s voice crackled over the line as he was obviously using a cell phone from somewhere without good reception.

 

“Jack is here too and the reason I am up right now is because we were woken by the police at the door to let us know that Ian was dead.”

 

_“Oh damn it! They certainly didn’t waste any time – listen, Ian isn’t dead. Well, I guess officially he’s dead, but he’s not actually physically dead.”_

 

Alex blinked in confusion as Jack surged forward to yell in the direction of the phone, “What? Ian’s alive? That is what you are trying to say right, Yassen?”

 

_“Yes. Ian is alive and we’re going to have to figure out a way for him to miraculously come back to ‘life’ somehow after the current mess is dealt with, but for the time being you two have to act as though you believe him to be dead.”_

 

Alex and Jack shared a speaking look with each other, it was one of ‘those’ things. Sometimes having an internationally renowned hit-man and a top echelon spy living in the same house was a logistical nightmare. This it seemed was yet another instance of the two getting tangled on a professional level. It didn’t happen often but when it did, yeah, it wasn’t fun – more like a huge headache for all involved.

 

Alex sighed and said, “If we’re to act as if Ian is dead in truth, then we’re going to have to organize a funeral and will reading and all that I suppose.”

 

_“Most of that should be handled by the Royal and General so don’t worry, you won’t actually have to do much. I don’t have much time left to talk as I will soon be missed but I wanted to make sure you knew Ian was fine and nowhere near dead. I am not going to be reachable for the remainder of this job as my employer is lacking that essential quality in a human being called sanity and I’ll not be able to get away much, if at all. Goodbye.”_ The dial tone began to drone and Alex quickly pushed the end call button. Then he sat back and looked tiredly at Jack.

 

“Guess there isn’t much to be done right now and I for one need more sleep. Bed and then worry about all this in the morning?”

 

Jack just yawned in response and Alex took that as her agreement. He got to his feet and headed back up to his room, Jack following after she locked the front door again and put the chain lock on. Alex had paused when he reached Jack’s door to wait for her to get up the stairs and give her a hug and then he took the few extra steps to reach his own door. He didn’t bother closing his door, he just let himself fall down face first onto his pillow and squirmed to get his blankets back to somewhat covering him while he slept. His last thought before falling asleep again was about how bad this could have been had Yassen not taken the chance to come and find his old mentor’s younger brother to help him raise Alex. Yassen could have killed Ian for real and Alex would have only had Jack. It was a terrifying thought and one Alex was very grateful that he wouldn’t have to live with that scenario.

 

x-X-x

 

The next morning both Jack and Alex slept in a bit due to the drama of the night before. Jack was at least was awake enough to remember to call Alex’s school and get him excused for the day.  Neither Jack nor Alex were under any illusions that they would have a peaceful day to grieve. They were right. Late morning they got five visitors, a lawyer who knew nothing about a will but somehow had been charged with organizing the funeral. The funeral director who had been recommended by the lawyer. A vicar who seemed to be very disturbed by Jack and Alex’s dry eyes. A neighbor from across the road who had shoehorned herself into the group seeing an opportunity for gossip (She had been shown the door in a hurry with some rather cross words from Jack burning in her ears.). And finally a man from the ‘bank’.

 

Crawley, from personnel, as he’d introduced himself was full of smooth words of condolence. “All of us at the Royal and General are deeply shocked,” he said as he adjusted the arms of his polyester suit and smoothing a hand down his Marks & Spencer tie. He looked to be about thirty something years old and his face was highly forgettable, even while he was standing in front of you and talking. “But if there is anything we can do…”

 

Alex scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at the floor. “What will happen now?”

 

“You don’t have to worry,” Crawley said. “The bank will take care of everything. That’s my job. You can leave everything to me.”

 

Alex nodded and asked to be excused, he didn’t feel up to long performances in front of an obvious intelligence agent when he had no idea when he’d see Ian again. It was great that he wasn’t dead for real but him hiding out meant that he was still lost to Alex for the duration. Jack waved him away and he gladly escaped to knock some balls around on Ian’s snooker table and kill some time. Jack joined him after she got rid of Crawley and filled him in on what was going to happen, she then said that they would go to get some Burger King later because the absolute last thing she felt like doing during this circus was cook. Alex snickered as she grumbled that Ian had finally figured out a way to duck the cooking even when he wasn’t on assignment, trust Jack to hone in on that factor of the situation.

 

The day of the funeral arrived and Alex and Jack, dressed to their depressing best, were ushered into a black car that had come from nowhere and surrounded with people he’d never met before. Ian Rider was to be ‘buried’ in Brompton Cemetery on Fullham Road, in the shadow of the Chelsea football field. Alex knew where he’d rather be on the warm Wednesday afternoon. Thirty people who were complete strangers to Alex milled around as the service began. The service had just gotten started when a black Rolls-Royce drew up and a man got out. Alex watched him walk forward and felt his skin crawl as he got closer – there was just something about the man. He was rather ordinary to look at, rather like an older Crawley, but much greyer. Grey suit, grey hair, grey skin, grey mouth, empty grey eyes behind his square gunmetal grey spectacles… perhaps ordinary wasn’t exactly the best term to describe the man, cadaverous or creepy might have been better. Alex shivered, whoever the man was, he seemed to have less life than anyone in the cemetery – above or below ground.

 

Crawley must have seen where Alex was staring and after tapping his shoulder to make Alex aware he was there, he leaned over to whisper into Alex’s ear, “That’s Mr. Blunt, he’s the chairman of the bank.”

 

Alex could only think irreverently, ‘huh, so that’s what a head spy looks like - creeeepy.’ He wisely kept the thought to himself because as far as he understood, Ian shouldn’t have told Alex anything about his work. Then he had to bite his tongue hard to keep back his amusement as he thought of what Tom would have said about Blunt. Okay, ow. A few tears shimmered to life in his eyes as he did in fact bite his tongue in his effort to control himself. Ah well, it added authenticity to his grieving persona – a stiff upper lip only went so far before you became an uncaring automaton to onlookers. It was good timing that when Alex was manufacturing his tears that the recommended vicar was wrapping up his graveside address.

 

Alex let himself sag and turned to find Jack so they could leave. He was more than done with this charade. Unfortunately as he was looking around for wherever Jack had gotten to, Alex saw that Blunt was approaching him, stepping carefully around the edge of the grave. ‘Oh god, what now?’ As the man got close, Alex noted with some bemusement that the man was only a little taller than him. And that his skin didn’t look real, it looked more like plastic than anything else.

 

“You must be Alex. I am Alan Blunt.” Those empty grey eyes magnified behind the spectacles were fastened firmly on Alex and Alex had to again suppress a shiver and suffer through his skin creeping like it wanted to retreat whether Alex went with it or not. “Your Uncle often spoke about you.”

 

Alex knew that was a lie, the last thing Ian would have done at work was talk about his unconventional home life – but he could hardly say anything about that either, so Alex shouldered back his revulsion and tried to deflect. “He never mentioned you, sorry. He didn’t talk about work at home ever, so…”

 

The grey lips twitched briefly at Alex’s words and Alex wondered why. Blunt must have seen the poorly disguised question in Alex’s eyes, but he only said, “I hope we’ll meet again…yes, I think we shall.” Alex didn’t want to draw any more unwanted attention from man his uncle had worked for so he couldn’t ask about why Blunt was so sure that they would meet again, instead he was only able to warily watch as the man turned and walked away. He kept his eyes locked on the man and so that is why he saw when the wind caught and blew open the suit jacket that Blunt’s driver was wearing as he leaned over to open the back door of the Rolls-Royce for Blunt. The driver had recovered quickly but not quick enough that Alex wouldn’t have seen the stark shape of a holstered automatic pistol revealed against the man’s snowy white dress shirt. Alex did his best to feign like the sight was unexpected and a bit alarming, he hoped his acting was good but something very close to an emotion slithered over his face and Alex’s heart sank. Alex just knew right then that something bad was going to happen in the near future, he just knew it.


End file.
